Mine
by LaDyFiCtIoN
Summary: Yuriy belongs to Boris, every bit of his love, his soul...and flesh. [Yuriy x Boris, Death]


Angst and macabre beauty. Death.

**Disclaimer:** Nothing.

**-Mine-**

Lavender eyes glanced down at the handle. It would surely be locked, and he knew that. All he needed was a pin to pick it and a few seconds longer. Each way, down the corridor, left and right was clear of anyone.

A faint click indicated the barrier was unlocked. He turned the brass knob and entered into more darkness. His fingers slid up the wall until they flicked the switched and a blinding light lit up the bulb overhead. He squinted as the white walls, as immaculate as but a few parts of his unmarred skin chased away any obscurity.

Then, when they blinked, every piece formed itself clearly. There was not a single spot of dirt to be found. It held such a high contrast to the walls outside, enclosing it. It was the hidden, a pristine dot in the middle of black clouding shades. Not a drop of water remained in the sink, or a stain upon the porcelain of the toilet. It was perfect, in more ways than one…

But even inside that one area, was another taint of ebony, a smudge or smear of black because even perfection itself was flawed. In the midst of ivory remained but one hue of the shadows, its blemish. That was not he, but the one leaned into the bathtub with dull blue eyes staring up at him.

Damp hair clung to the already pale face, void of everything. The red locks resembled the color swirling in the tub. It streaked down from his arms, slashed, leaking essence into the water below. He really was beautiful, nude and innocent, just like the first days that were nothing but a vague memory to each of them.

''Boris…'' His name was but a whisper, poignant in the silence.

He felt his lips twitch into the faintest of smiles.

Yuriy was so beautiful when he was weak, a fallen angel shoved away from his glory.

''I never thought you had it in you.''

''I…never thought you would care.''

Boris snorted. ''I don't.'' He simply had business to attend too.

The scars that stretched across his captain's arms were not slit sideways. But, they swayed. The death paths were not straight, as if there was some form of hesitation just not enough to stop. They were already too deep like the male that was already far beyond saving.

''What did _he_ do to you this time?'' He walked over and crouched by the tub.

His fingers reached out and grazed along the contused skin of his neck, swollen and bruised. Marine orbs went wide and his body shuddered. Teeth chattered as he suppressed a sob from his throat that ached.

Either could even say his name. He remained nameless and the third person he was referred too was pronounced with surges of bitterness as if it burned their tongues worst then any venom or poison ever could.

''He…tried to kill me. He…choked me and I thought I was going to die.'' His words were struggled and harsh amid rasps from his bluing lips.

''You were not going to give him that pleasure, were you?'' His eyes fell upon the razor, abandoned in the tub, sank to the bottom of the orange water.

Yuriy smiled.

At any other time, humans were ignorant but before death, they spoke earnestly with the last ounces of their dwindling passion. Boris knew that it would be their last words shared and made the most of their final moment. His leader deserved it.

''Boris…I…love-''

''Don't say it.''

He leaned over the edge and pressed his lips roughly against the mauve pair, refusing to let those cold words be the last. It was his ending gift, a kiss from his unrequited love. When he pulled back, he watched the marine depths shed their first and last tears.

''The only real person worthy of taking your life is me. In suicide, you found more dignity than in life. That is yours to keep, but your life, like you once said to me, is mine.''

''Thank you…'' Yuriy whispered as he felt the calloused hand clamp down over his mouth.

His body was too weak to move and only his legs thrashed for a brief second. The water darkened, almost to an opaque crimson as the struggle, along with his friend, died in a poignant silence. His fingers left his orifice and closed the lids of his eyes with those long, ebony lashes, then dove into the depths and fished out the blade. That was his souvenir.

After all, Boris had his heart, why not his soul as well.

**-EndE-**


End file.
